Tale Of Four Founders
by TheElfWhoLived007
Summary: The magical world was destined for change the moment a Scottish lord's son rescued a poor English boy from death. When they met the beautiful, intelligent Irish warrior princess and the sweet-natured Swedish farm-girl, change was certain. United only by magic and co-incidence, the four move to change the magic world for the better- or will it end up for the worse?
1. Salazar Slytherin

A/N: First ever fanfic! Read and tell me how to improve.i just want to say- thank you for reading this. I've always been fascinated by the founders. Gryffindor to me is a lord-like person. Slytherin is either a sly politician or a street-smart boy. Ravenclaw is a warrior princess and Hufflepuff is a Swedish or Swiss stereotype(except for the magic) farmer girl. Also, my iPad's autocorrect functions weirdly, so any mistakes can most probably be blamed on that. Not that I'm using it as an excuse..

~Elf

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A young boy cried out in pain as a hot poker made contact with his flesh. "'m sorry.." He whimpered, half-sobbing. The woman wielding the poker only laughed. "D'you think that ye are a snake, boy? A snake, ta steal from them and get away with it, even though I give ya a handfuls of rice, every meal? After I gave ya, put clothes on ya and gave ya a roof under yer head? D'ya think ya can steal? DO YA?!" The boy whimpered again. He could not have been over seven years old. "Aunt... Forgive me.. Please... I didn't do no stealin'..." He tried to say, but cried out again when his aunt slapped him over where he had hit him. She kicked him, then said viciously. "Get out! Get away from here! I ain't gonna take care of ya, ye ungrateful little brute! Just like yer parents, ye got no manners, no brains, no thanks!" With every few words, she gave him another slap. The boy felt himself growing scared and angry.

He didn't want to die. He wanted her to die. He hated her. She was no aunt of his. As she finished the sentence, his anger grew. He had never known his parents and had but the faintest memory of them, but they were good people. How dare she insult them! She had never know his father, either. She delivered one more kick. His rage was almost uncontrollable. Again she tried to kick him. There was a bang and some sparks. She flew backwards by a few minutes. "Freak!" She called out again. He could barely think. He lay on the ground, whimpering and holding back tears. Darkness threatened to overcome him. He remembered her throwing him out. He felt the cold, freezing snow on his back and then knew no more.

When he next came to he was in a big room, bigger than he had ever seen. It was stocked with potions in one corner. A man was standing over him. "He will live", he said. There were a few claps. Even in his foggy mind, he knew something was wrong. People were actually glad that he was surviving. When had he ever been wanted?

He came to again, still in the same room. Another man was standing over him. Behind the man was a boy, no older than he was. "Ah, he is conscious again. Godric, fetch a healer, would you?" The boy hurried of. They seemed to be very rich people. They spoke with all the posh accents of the upper class. The man smiled down gently at him. "What is your name, child?" He asked kindly. "M'name is Salazar, sir, Salazar Slytherin.", he said. It took him effort even to talk. He muttered, looking strangely troubled. Then his face brightened and, with some difficulty, he smiled at the boy, Salazar."Well, Salazar, welcome to the House of Gryffindor." Even in his foggy mind he recognised the name. The Gryffindors were the overlords of the city and a good bit of the country surrounding it. Right good Lords they were, too. They gave money to all people living in a street, once a month. Two Galleons. Enough to keep them going for a good two years. "Sorry, m'lord. I didn't know 'twas ya." He struggled to get up, but Lord Gryffindor pushed him down again. "Salazar, you nearly died. No need to get up." Salazar was too weak to protest, so he lay down and stared at the ceiling, wondering how a poor lad like him was in the lord's house.

A few minutes later, Godric hurried in, followed by the man whom Salazar had seen earlier. "Ah, good. You are still awake. By tomorrow I'll let you out." Salazar smiled up weakly. "I don't want ta impose, m'lords... I will go out today."  
Lord Gryffindor only smiled. "Salazar, I want to talk to you. Will you listen?"  
Salazar replied, not knowing what else to say, "Ofcourse, m'lord. As you say, I do." Lord Gryffindor looked at Salazar seriously for a moment, then said, "Salazar, yo should be dead from the beating you took. When we found you, you were lying on the snow, half-dead. That was two days ago." When he heard this, Salazar got up. "M'lord, my aunt.. She'll kill me! She beat me up M'lord, and I'll die if she.. Y'know, beats me up agin."

At this Lord Gryffindor's face turned graver. "So it was her?" Salazar clapped his hand over his mouth. "M'lord... I shouldn't have said that!" Lord Gryffindor only tried to smile reassuringly at Salazar. With a strong arm he pushed Salazar down again.

"Salazar, you should have died. She hit you with a poker and kicked you on that wound. We found you unconscious on the snow, which cooled the wound but gave you a high fever. We went to ask your Aunt and she said that you got beat up, came home and practised sorcery on her. But she was lying... I'm sure of it. If she took care of you, then you wouldn't have dreamt of accusing her. So tell me more about yourself.." He then knelt closer and softly whispered "Even the magic."

On seeing Salazar's fear, he tried his best to smile reassuringly. Again. Is he trying to REASSURE me? ME? Thought Salazar. Then, having thought as much as his seven year old brain could, said his story.

It took over an hour, but Lord Gryffindor was a patient man. He sat through tales of being beaten, starving and thrown out in the snow. He even heard about the times when Salazar's strange abilities had healed him very fast. He was shown scars all over Slazar's thin, bony body. The only time he was surprised was when Salazar told him how he could talk to snakes.

Once Salazar finished his sorry tale, Lord Gryffindor gripped the pommel of his sword. "Salazar, she will be punished.", he promised. Seeing Salazar's guilt, he said, "Child, you are young. It is wrong of her to do this. You do not understand the workings of justice. She had it coming." Slazar was not too reassurd but anything was better than young boy, Godric, had been standing behind his father the whole time. His eyes too had widened and as the healer told Salazar to rest, he whispered something to his father.

The next day, Salazar woke up and was given new clothes. as instructed by the healer, he went down to Lord Gryffindor sat. "M'lord," he said, bowing down. "Lord Gryffindor waved a hand. "Justice has been served, lad. "Thank'ee, m'lord", he said, happy that he was free of his aunt. As a child, he didn't trouble himself with where he would go. For once he acted like the care-free child he was supposed to be. When Lord Gryffindor told him to sit, he sat and ate. He felt a strange feeling in his stomach, like he couldn't eat any more. Was he... Full? "Cor!" He exclaimed. Godric looked over to him and spoke the first words shared by the two future friends. "What?" He felt embarrassed as he said, "I actually felt full, m'lord." Godric looked surprised at this and then looked to his father for further instructions. His father simply smiled and said "Salazar, would you like to stay here? You will be Godric's companion and friend." The child nearly choked on the bread he was eating.

"Si.. I mean, m'lord? What? Are ya... Serious? Ye would keep me? I could.. Be full every meal?" The Lord laughed and nodded. Laughing, Salazar finished his breakfast and looked forward to a brighter future.

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**A/N- I know this was sudden, but Slytherin was only a very small child. He couldn't really think through the decision. Maybe as a twenty year old he would think carefully, but he was too young and also was going through the pleasures of delicious food and a full stomach.**


	2. Rowena Ravenclaw

CHAPTER 2

A/N:- The beginning of this chapter is a bit shaky, very shaky, in fact. I apologise for updating late. Also, the long AN will be after the conclusion of the chapter.  
I NEED A BETA. PLEASE REVIEW OR PM IF YOU ARE WILLING.  
Disclaimer: Damn, forgot this in the first chapter. Obviously, I'm not J.K.R. Thus, I own nothing but the personalities of the founders, the OCs and the plot.

Rowena Ravenclaw, princess of Ireland. A warrior, skilled with a bow and a sword. She was known for her intelligence, logic and beauty. With her light bronze skin, black hair and blue eyes, she had to be beautiful.

When she came of age and her parents started looking for suitors, the tales of her battle prowess spread far and wide. There were mutterings in villages and anger from the more superstitious of the peasants. Every time she heard the accusations they threw at her, she would laugh it off. They needed to learn. She was more skilled than many men and more intelligent than most.

Suitors came in from far and wide. Many caught her eye, but no one would accept her for what she was- a warrior.

One of the suitors she took a particular hating to was Sebastian III, prince of some land or the other and a handsome, arrogant, idiot. He was also a womaniser.

He spent the whole of one dinner boring Rowena with his tales. When she mentioned that she liked eagles and that they were beautiful animals, he chose to smilingly make up tales and boast about killing eagles in Ireland. Was she the only one who had read "Mortal Beasts"?

So once he heard she was a warrior, he decided to mock her about it. She hated him, she really did. She knew for a fact that if they married,he would father over a hundred bastards.

One night, they were eating dinner with Sebastian. Rowena felt exposed in a long skirt in the place of the usual pants she wore. Sebastian was boasting about his prowess in battle. "I am considered one of the greatest swordsmen in history!" He boasted. Rowena mentally groaned. "Really?" Asked her father. "Then you should get along with Rowena. She is very skilled with a sword."

Rowena, tried to smile at him. Sebastian looked at her contemptuously, his blonde hair slicked back and glittering. "You consider yourself a warrior Rowena? I assure you, you don't need to worry your pretty little head over fighting when we are married. Anyway, as a woman, you most probably cannot hit a tree in front of you. Your father speaks out of love for you only."

Rowena was angered beyond words. "Well, Your Majesty", she said, curtseying as elegantly as she could and rewarding him with her brightest, most unnerving smile, then abruptly and unexpectedly said, "Lord Sebastian Malfoy III, I challenge thee to a duel." He laughed. Laughed at her. And would not stop. That idiot actually thought she was joking. Rowena unsheathed the dagger she had kept with her for protection since an assassin had attacked her and held it at his throat. "Or I could kill you here and now. It might get a little messy though... I guess I'll take you outside and kill you. Less of a mess for the servants."

She had no idea how she threatened him lIke that, but she knew that she hated him more than anything or anyone. "D-d-d-don't k-k-kill m-m-me" he stuttered. Rowena looked at him contemptuously and kicked him where it hurt. He cried out in pain and curled up on the ground. "Well? Will you accept my challenge?"

'Even with his measly brain he should realise that refusing will be admitting defeat... Just give it a few hours.', she though smugly. His eyes widened as he realised just that. 'Hmm, faster than I expected.'

He spoke arrogantly despite his curled up position and said, "I-if I win, y-you will be my wife and do nothing-N-n-NOTHING- other than g-g-give me pleasure when instructed. Is that alright with you?"

Rowena could only muse on how arrogant a stuttering person could sound as she said"If I win... Let's just see about that... Ah, I have it- If I win, I choose the punishment!" Her mother winced slightly, thinking that it wasn't ladylike, but her father grinned. King Ravenclaw was never the one to underestimate his daughter. The reply came as expected, "My victory is certain, so please be ready. I do not fear a mere woman!"

Those words were spread through the country and most of those who could afford it came to watch the duel.

It was scheduled for the next week. Rowena woke up on time every morning, letting herself sleep just enough, and trained a lot. Even if Sebastian was as bad a swordsman as he seemed, good training would be useful later on. She was never one to not work hard.

Another way for her to prepare was by reading books on the art of war. She seriously studied techniques that would increase her speed and strength. There was one tome which she really loved. It had been written by a woman, the only other woman who had ever been known to be skilled at war. Her name was unknown and she had been burned to death. Which was why witch-burning was forbidden where she lived. Her parents knew of her hatred of that practise, so after debates and carefully constructed arguments, it had been banned.

Sebastian meanwhile, was acting as arrogant as ever. He spent his days with wine and women. All the cheap women around the castle worshipped him and hoped to be called into his chamber one night. One more reason to hate him.

The day of the tournament approached fast. Rowena woke up early on that fateful day and readied herself quickly. Light, flexible leather clothes would have to do. Too bad the armour she had ordered was not yet ready. She heard a knock on the door. "Lady Rowena? Are you decent?" Rowena grinned. It was her sword instructor, Sir George Wesley. "Yes, Sir George!" She said, opening the door. Sir George stood with a servant beside him. "Milady, here is your armour. As per the design you requested. And here is your sword." The servant moved forward and presented her with a beautiful blade. He kept the armour in the shelf she had reserved just for new items which had not yet found a spot in her room.

"Oh good! The armour is ready early. Thank the blacksmith for me." Rowena grinned again, something she seemed to be doing a lot since she challenged that pompous, arrogant little toe-rag.

The armour was a design found in a book. She and asked for it only a few weeks back. It was very light and gave a good amount of protection. Her sword was also light. It had a thin blade which was blue, and a bronze handle. On the pommel was the symbol of an eagle, which soars where man cannot tread. A noble animal indeed. The same animal was on the nosepiece of her helm, she observed with delight.

All of these were built for speed. After years of intensive training, Rowena was light and fast. She could disarm and move with lightning quick movements, so she thrived in large areas. Her only weakness was power. She never put extra power in her blows, preferring to slip under her enemy's guard. A fast yet strong enemy had an excellent chance against her.  
She opened the curtain and saw the rising sun. She was late. Hurriedly sheathing her sword at her waist, she went down to breakfast. She wasn't nervous. She knew that if all else failed, her strange luck would save her.

This luck had once teleported her behind a person when she was supposed to be "dead" in practise. Another time, when an assassin was after her, a lady had accidentally poured garbage on the man's head. That had her laughing at the fate of the assassin for weeks. This 'luck' seemed to be as intelligent as her, at the very least. The only thing she was worried about was that if her luck saved her, her family would have a full-scale rebellion on their hands.

She briskly walked down to breakfast, where Sebastian sat at the foot of the long table. At the head sat King Ravenclaw, and to his left sat an old knight, beside whom sat a beautiful yellow-haired girl.

"Rowena!" Said her father, spotting her and urging her towards him. She walked briskly, ignoring the contemptuous glare of Sebastian on her back. She had also seen him run his eyes over her body covetously. She glared at him the, but not bothered to watch him tremble. She had better things to do.

She walked over to the table where her father nodded to her and asked her to sit down. "Rowena, I would like you to meet Sir Jeremy Hufflepuff and his granddaughter, Helga Hufflepuff.

Sir Jeremy bowed and Helga smiled at her. The girl was about Rlwena's age, with long yellow-blonde hair and a pretty, cheerful face. She had rosy cheeks and such golden-brown eyes. Overall, she looked a lot but not quite like many of the farm girls one would find across Sweden.

"Sir Jeremy was once a fine knight, but he started as a farmer's boy so that is what he became. He cultivated his land and his sons grew up as slightly elevated farm boys." he said. Then nodding at Sir Huflepuff, he said "No offence, Sir."

Sir Jeremy merely smiled. Helga spoke her first words to Rowena in her clear, sweet, lightly accented voice. voice. "Lady Rowena, come sit beside me." Rowena smiled and moved to sit down next to Helga.

"So, Rowena," said her father. "Sir Jeremy and Helga are here to watch the tournament." Rowena simply nodded.

"You have a sword?" Asked Sir Jeremy. "My lady? May I see the blade you wield? I would like to see what sort of a blade I can have crafted for Helga." Rowena's expression brightened as she carefully unsheathed her sword and gave it to him. "Ah, beautiful blade. It is sharp, light and if used intelligently, very deadly. Wonderful design and forging. May I know the maker of the sword and design?"

"Well, the town blacksmith forged it. The design was made by me, based on a very similar design in a tome." Was Rowena's reply as a servant moved in to serve her the usual nutritious diet food.

"Anne?" She called the girl. "Tell cook to prepare a feast for tomorrow if I win this." The serving girl, Anne, turned and nodded.

She spent her breakfast talking with Helga. The girl was really sweet, but Rowena would not have had the patience for sweetness was Helga not so... Informal. The manipulating, cunning world of politics where Rowena lived seemed to be so far from her. This could almost make her jealous. Helga was accepting and thoughtful. A perfect princess. Meanwhile, at the foot of the table, the same serving girl who was serving Rowena, Anne, was serving Sebastian.

Sebastian seemed to have gotten a little drunk, at breakfast, that too, so when Anne went near him he threw out an arm and pinched her. Anne stiffened but continued walking. Both Helga and Rowena were angry, but thee was nothing they could do about it.

"Hey, you girl, give me some more!" Called out Sebastian, making Rowena hate him even more then ever. Anne, however, merely said "You want wine Sir?"

Sebastian nodded. " Give it to me, now..." Anne moved forward and poured some wine. Sebastian took a swig then, as Anne turned around, dragged her onto his lap. Rowena nearly burst with contained anger.

Taking one look at her, Lord Ravenclaw shook his head. "Lord Sebastian..." He began, but before he could continue, Anne had somehow lurched herself forward and escaped his grasp. Sebastian was curled up clutching the same place Rowena had previously kicked him in.

"She-she burnt me that.. That..." Gasped Sebastian. Rowena could not resist smiling. "Maybe he deserved it", she whispered to Helga and then immediately thought. 'Whispering? I met this girl only an hour ago and I'm already close enough to whisper?'

Still, whispering aside, Rowena was shocked. She thought that she was the only one who had these strange things happen to her! If she was proved wrong, this meant that strange happenings could be either something everybody hid or something that was a talent. This had to be researched.

"Helga? I must be on my way now. If you wish to see me, either look in the library or in the practise yard. If I'm in neither place, check my chambers. The better way though, will be sending someone to check for you," she said Helga nodded, but when she heard the last part she said. "No! I'm not afraid of work. It will be no problem to check on you. Good luck, Lady Rowena."

"Just Rowena." She said, walking off. Her first destination was the library, where she took a few books and kept them in her room, where she donned her armour. Then, she walked down to the practise yard. This was to be her last practise before the duel.

She was surprised to see Helga practising there with a long dagger. "Helga?" She called out.  
Helga turned and smiled. "Rowena." She said simply. 'I like that. Most people refuse to call me Rowena when I ask them to. This girl is really likeable.'

Helga walked over to her and they started walking towards Sir George. "Do you wield the dagger Helga?" Asked a Rowena, trying her best to be polite.  
"I do, but only for the sake of defence. Dark things roam the mountains. I'm. Ot that much into fighting. Too violent, you know? Let it be left to men who don't know better." She glanced at Rowena and added "No offence, My Lady. I'm sure you are more intelligent than most men."  
She nodded in acknowledgement and replied "No offence taken. And I thought that, unlike others, you had stopped calling me 'lady'?"

Helga only grinned and nodded. By the time they had finished talking, they had reached the centre of the ground where Sir George was training some of the other aspiring knights.  
"Sir George!" Called out Rowena. Everybody stopped themselves from turning and looking at the two girls, as not fully paying attention to the swords could end up harming them

"Ah, Lady Rowena. Come here to practise I assume?" Said Sir George, smiling at her. He immediately noticed Helga by her side and said, "Greetings to you too, my lady..?"

"Helga Hifflepuff." She smiled. "And please, Sir George, I am no lady. Only a descendent of one." Sir George nodded and laughed his booming laugh, although Rowena had no idea why. Maybe he knew Helga's grandmother.  
"You wield a blade too, Lady- I mean, Helga?" He changed the track of his way of addressing Helga completely when he saw her glare. Unsurprisingly, at this change in address, the glare melted to be replaced by her usual charming smile.

"A sword I wield only if I must. My weapon of choice is a bow or, if the occasion demands, a long dagger." She said.

"So, Helga, would you practise with Lady Rowena here? I will be pre-occupied with the other swordsmen and Rowena needs to practise with women so that she can fight her match today." Both of the girls laughed at the (poor) implied joke and Helga agreed to practise with Rowena.

They drew their blades in the small practise area set aside for the royal family. Rowena's blade was considerably longer, although Helga's dagger could be considered a short sword. They bowed to each other and the match began.

Helga moved like a bee, buzzing fast with her-yellow and black blade, "Sweet Sting" as she pressed closer to Rowena, using her shorter blade as an advantage. 'She knows how to wield her blade', thought Rowena with admiration. 'She seems to have some practical experience as well, which gives her a slight advantage...'  
However quick Helga was, Rowena equalled her in speed. She moved quickly out of Sweet Sting's range as she started trying to slip under her new friend's guard from a longer range. Ten minutes the match went on, ten minutes which they spent attacking and defending. Finally though, Rowena quickly locked hilts with Helga and twisted. Sweet Sting fell to the ground. She out her sword to Helga's throat. "I win!" She said cheerfully, removing the blade.

"You clearly have a passion for this. My mere training with no actual pursuit of this as an art did not stand a chance." Commented Helga, displaying the kind side of her personality, the one that would bring her fame in the future.

"You, didn't have a chance." Replied Rowena, giving an unladylike snort. "It was only through sheer luck that it was my victory! You are equally good, if not better than me with Sweet Sting. If you prefer a bow, then I wonder how good you are with one. In fact, my curiosity is so overwhelming I suggest we go to the archery range right now."

"Oh, I'm not so good with weapons in any form, yet I will not say no to archery." Was what Helga said. "Seeing your skill at the art is something which will no doubt improve my technique."

Rowena graciously accepted the compliment and together they walked out of the practise area. "Practised well, I hope?" Asked Sir George as they walked out of the courtyard. "Of course, Sir George. Rowen had rather easily managed to defeat me with her blade." Came Helga's formal reply.

They continued walking and since it was a long way, Rowena decided to make some small talk with Helga. "So... Who introduced you to the sword and the dagger? 'Tis rare that women are allowed to fight, only my high position got me into this." She sighed. "Seems like everything revolves around politics nowadays."

Helga nodded. "My mother taught me, she had learned from Father's mother."  
Her voice took on a sadder tone as she said, "Grandmother was the greatest of warriors. She... Died. The story of her death is for another time."

Rowena nodded as they reached the archery range. Rowena waves a servant boy over. "Get me my usual bow. Also, get a bow for Lady Helga here." He nodded respectfd

"Milady? What bow would ye prefer?" Asked the boy.  
"Ah, a good longbow would do. A lighter bow would be better."

The boy nodded again and ran off.

About an hour passed, wherein Helga's great skill was proven. Her shooting grew more and more accurate the lighter the bow she used. She was better than Rowena at archery, as Rowena proffered more powerful shots on her  
crossbow, which reduced her accuracy.

After some time, Rowena realised with a shock that she had been having a good time with Helga while everyone was awaiting her for the final preparation before the duel. She had never had so much fun before. Not with her male friends, they were always a little condescending and too distant. Her female companions usually only cared about sewing and gossiping.

"Helga?" She said. "Yes, Rowena?" Came the reply from Helga.  
"I must apologise as the hour grows late. They are expecting me for final preparation and for the exercises which I have to complete before the duel." Said Rowena apologetically.  
"No problem. May I accompany you?" Asked Helga.  
"Of course. Just be warned, act respectful inside the castle when in the vicinity of my mother the queen. To her, I will be acting too casual."  
Helga nodded.

The two of them hurried back to the castle. The sun had already risen high, judging from the sundial there was yet time for the duel. She had heard from the few girls who decided to help her that Sebastian, whom she had almost forgotten during the wonderful morning, would be using an axe or a similar blunt weapon. She doubted it. The girls were very bad at hiding their true intentions, they were obviously aiding him.

A few minutes in their brisk pace and they arrived at the castle. "Lady Rowena." Called out Anne, bowing, "His majesty your father is expecting you. He is in his study with her majesty your mother. Lady Helga is to meet with Sir Jeremy Hufflepuff in their quarters."

Mentally, Rowena groaned. She had been avoiding her mother since the challenge. Her mother did not think it lady-like to challenge a man. However, she managed to smile at Helga. "The morning was fine indeed, my lady." Helga looked a bit surprised at the sudden formality in her tone, but accepted it, remembering what Rowena had said about facing the queen.  
"I feel the same, your majesty. Thank you for your presence."  
Rowena nodded graciously and then ruined the effect as she grinned mischievously at Helga.

She walked away,trying her best to walk regally despite her sweat-soaked clothes. Anne, coming up behind her, grinned. "Milady Rowena... This way of walking is barely regal and ladylike." They had been friends when they were young. Anne had been sneaking out and getting basic sword training when Rowena caught her but had allowed her to continue. However, their friendship had to wane, due to the much-hated political reasons. Anne had her skills with an axe.

'Is it not strange that the females all over the known world are weak? Three of the strongest females seem to be in this castle.' Mused Rowena as she walked towards her father's study which was on the top of the north tower.

She reached and saw her parents inside. She courts eyed as elegantly as she could to her mother, but since she was in pants and wearing her sword at her waist she nearly collapsed and stabbed herself. Her father caught her and steDied her. "There there, Rowena, be careful." He said, smiling ever so slightly. Her mother frowned. "Rowena, you are nearly eighteen summers old! Are you not going to learn to curtsy?" She said dissaprovingly. Rowena stared at her feet, embarrassed.

"Mother... I'm sorry." Her mother only nodded. "You better be." She sniffed. "Now we need to talk to you."

"What?" Asked Rowena abruptly. Seeing her mother's glare, she corrected "Sorry. I mean, what, your majesty?" Her mother nodded.  
"I have been... Analysing your talk with Sebastian, especially. And I have to say that I..."  
Rowena glared at her mother. "So you disapprove, your majesty?"She said, putting as much venom as she could into those two words. Her mother winced, but Rowena did not care. She knew she was being unreasonable, but she felt too angry, like a caged up bird.

"Do you have any idea what it is like to be me? Looked down upon by my own mother? Do you have any idea how horrible it is to pretend to be something you are not, all the time? Just for the sake of politics, that is it. Oftentimes, I feel like my whole life is for political reasons!" She nearly screamed.  
"Rowena I..." Her mother started, but fell silent when Rowena hit her, all the cooped up emotions just coming up and out. "I have never been a lady, I am a warrior. I care not if it is ladylike, it is what I am and I do not wish to change it. Sebastian insulted and degraded me, it was a rash decision to challenge him, yet I do not regret it. He deserved it." She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "Now say what you need to say, but know how I feel."

"Rowena..." Said her mother hesitantly, as though afraid of Rowena lashing out again. She merely raised an eyebrow.  
"You will always be my daughter. It is not that I do not care for you, never ever think such. It is just that you must be more like what is expected of you. And that is wrong. You have to be what the people want you to be."

"And deny what I really am?" Asked Rowena, getting up and pacing. "I am not what the people expect of me, nor will I ever be. It is only logical for you, mother, to get a better heir."

Her mother regained her confidence. "And what of Sebastian? How could you challenge him? A sweet, friendly man who only wished the best for you?"

Rowena felt red-hot anger coursing through her veins again. Her father, who had till then remained silent, placed a hand on her arm. "Rowena, do not say something you will later regret. You are a logical person. Follow your logic."

Rowena nodded mutely, still too angry to speak. "I will restrain myself and tell you only this, mother. Sebastian never wished the best for me. He wanted the best for himself. A truly sweet and caring man would actually allow me to prosper as who I am." She grabbed her father's sword and placed the tip on her heart. "Rowena! No!" Cried out her father. Her mother looked to be on the verge of sobbing.

"I, Rowena Ravenclaw, hereby swear upon this sword of my father and by my belonging to the Noble house of Ravenclaw to marry for love and love alone."

Her parents sighed in relief, although her mother did not look happy. "Know now, that giving me away in marriage is taking away my position as your daughter."

She walked out of the room, ignoring her mother's cries for help. She swathe water clock, a beautiful one of an ancient design. It said that noon approached fast and with it was her duel with Sebastian.

She went to her room and read up as much as she could about different techniques, spending her time assimilating at least a hundred different ways to kill or maim an opponent.

The duel approached fast. She donned her armour, admiring once again the elegantly crafted eagle nosepiece and hung her sword at her waist,she alsokt knives hidden in about ten different locations on her body. Very one of them would be needed.

A knock on her door assured her that she was not too Walt in getting ready. "Rowena?" Called Helga in her musical voice. "The duel approaches fast. The audience have assembled and are waiting."

She swung open the door. "I am ready." She said confidently,striding out of the room. Helga struggled to keep up with her. "A warrior, indeed." she said. "May the gods be with you, Rowena."

She hurried down into the great ground that had been set up only for the duel. "Lady Rowena." Called out Sebastian mockingly. "Prepared for losing, are you not?" His friends laughed with him.

"Be careful how you speak." She replied. "You might be the one who will lose finally." Sebastian only laughed at her, just like the day of her challenging him. This time, though, she would not let him get to her. She would defeat him and show him and all men how formidable an opponent she, Rowena Ravenclaw really was.

A conch shell was blown, so she mounted her stallion, a beautiful black horse named Midnight and rode him into the arena. "A woman riding a horse!" Said Sebastian mocking her again. "Whatever would the fates say?" Rlwena responded by urging midnight onwards and striking him with her lance, leaving him face down in the dirt, hopefully pondering his own stupidity.

After a few more successful rounds with a land, both of them drew their swords. Sebastian's sword was heavy and jewel-encrusted, making a hard hit when swung. She found it almost ridiculously easy to dodge as he was very slow.

His blows had a fair bit of strength to them, but since she was too fast for him she was not affected. However, she moved as fast as she could, dodging the blade instead of parrying. "You fight like the coward which you are!" He taunted. She ignored him and slipped under his guard. Using the same trick she had with Helga, she locked hits and twisted. He withdrew his sword, though.

She kneed him and he groaned in pain. Swinging the sword blindly. This time, the locking hilts worked and his sword clattered to the ground. The crowd cheered and booed. She turned and faced the huge podium where her parents sat. "By the laws of times unknown, I claim this match as my victory!" She cried triumphantly.

'I knew that the coward stood not a chance.' She thought proudly. Unbeknownst to her, however, he had retrieved his sword from where it,ay on the dust. The crowd gasped and she swung around, but it was too late. Her sword clattered to the ground and his was heading straight for her stomach.

"Dishonourable coward!" She cried. The sword nearly bored through her as she dodged the blow. The crowd was panicking now, screaming and running away. Her father's guards approached her, but they would be too late. "Rowena!" Cried her parents, panic in their voices. She retrieved one of her hidden knives and did the only thing she could do.

When Sebastian stabbed at her, there was a bang. He was thrown back. A flash of lightning followed, throwing him to the ground.  
"You are a witch, not a royal." Muttered Sebastian. "Still, I... Lost... To a woman." He groaned in pain and, to Rowena, seemed to suddenly die.

"What is this?" A voice boomed and Rowena looked up. Through the haze she saw the only thing that could make her day worse- Sebastian's parents, the monarchs of Wales, had arrived.

The king of Wales seemed to be arguing with her father. "Punish her." The king boomed. "Or I will take her by force. My guards are with entourage of a thousand for the defeat if your daughter. Challenging was bad, but this... Is he dead?"

Black filled the edges of her vision as one of the stable men seemingly threw a rock at her and she missed out on the next part of the conversation.

"Rowena. Rowena." A voice seemed to be calling her repeatedly. "Helga?" She said drearily. "What?"

"Somebody threw a rock at you and injured you. Yes, and you nearly killed Sebastian. If we do not escape now, you are dead. The magic you used also exhausted you, but was seen by the audience. If you stay, you and your parents will certainly die. I'm sorry, but leaving is the best chance of your family surviving."  
"Magic?" She asked.

"Accidental." She replied. On seeing Rowena's confused expression, she said, "Curse it! I will explain what I know of it later!"

"Tell me how you know such things then." Replied Rowena.

She followed Helga, her head throbbing. "Can you ride? Because that is the only chance for our escape." Said Hekga

Rowena nodded and mounted Midnight. They rode out at full gallop, past the guards in the gate. They went down the Kingsroad at full speed.

She turned around and took a last look at her childhood home. Surprisingly, she did not feel any regret as she rode away from it. In fact, she felt like an eagle, once trapped in a golden cage, but now free.

"So, Helga, magic? What do you know and how do you know about it?" She asked over the sound of hooves as her vision cleared out, trying to keep herself entertained.

"My grandmother taught me about it." Replied Helga, slowing her horse's pace down to a walk.

"She-she died right? Tell me more about her, from what you have said she seems to be a wonderful woman." said Rowena , barely able to string together a coherent sentence.

"It is a long tale." Warned Helga.

"We have all the time in the world", replied Rowena. "And I cannot fall unconscious."

Helga nodded and said quietly. "She was burnt alive for being a warrior. Also... She had told me that she-she..."

"She what?" Asked Rowena, all traces of wooziness disappearing.

"I-if I tell you, y-you won't tell anyone will you?" Asked Helga, stuttering slightly. Rowena noticed the usually composed girl's stuttering and nodded encouragingly. "I won't tell a soul." She promised.

"Well, she had... M-magic. When she was very young and was just learning, her magic saved her from various sti-sticky situations. It would look like very strange accidents to an onlooker, yet the more superstitious already hated her. So when she moved away from the capital and into Sweden, an assassin was sent to her in the village. She fought as hard as she could, yet this man matched her equally. He was a very skilled warrior. So, blow to blow the fight raged. She won, but only due to 'luck'. All the onlookers saw him flying headfirst into the river. The next day, she was dragged out and burnt alive. She never let out a scream. Just... Died."

Rowena listened silently to the whole thing, the tale ringing very familiar in her ears. Her logic took over immediately. She was magical. These accidents were magical. That girl, Anne, was also magical. Piece were falling together quickly. Now all that remained to be seen was wether or not males could be magical and also if Helga was a witch too. That would make survival considerably easier.

"So, where are we going Helga?" She asked.

"I know a place, but it is over five months journey from here. A castle, a great one at that."

"Whose castle?" Asked Rowena curiously.

"The castle of the ancient and noble house of Gryffindor."

A/N: Sorry for the wait.


	3. Godric Gryffindor

A/N: Enjoy the chapter and I'm sorry for not updating. AC Brotherhood is seriously awesome and Doctor Who is even better. And have you all read House of Hades? It rocks! Also, thanks go out to my Beta and all the wonderful readers and reviewers.

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Disclaimer: My name is not J.K. Rowling.

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Chapter 3- Godric

Godric Gryffindor woke up to the sound of Salazar Slytherin banging on his door. It had been about eight years since they had met and the two of them had grown as close as brothers. They had also been learning the basics of controlling their strange powers - their 'magic'.

He had found it difficult to think that this strange talent was his. Questions had roved his mind for a long time. Were they the only ones with magic? Was magic a legacy?

His morning musings were interrupted by Salazar shouting for him. "Godric! Wake up! Your lord father awaits us! And, you will be late for training. Do you really want that?" Godric sighed and arose.

"I'm coming. Please, do not nag me. I am rising. I hope you realise that the sun is barely in the sky?" He told Salazar, quickly moving into his robes and throwing open he door. (line skip)

"Ah, there you are," said Salazar, relieved.

They had both matured quite a lot, as was natural over the years. Godric's once golden hair had turned a reddish-golden shade, and his eyes remained their unusual brown-gold. He had grown lean and fit, reminding most of a lion ready to pounce. Salazar had changed even more. He had grown tall but had remained thin. His hair was jet-black and smoothed, with never a strand out of place in stark comparison to Godric's messy locks. His eyes were stormy grey; overall he looked dangerous, like an assassin creeping through the shadows.

The two boys walked together to Lord Gryffindor's study, talking together easily. "Have you any idea why Father called us?" Godric asked his adopted brother. Salazar shook his head.

"I got a message from a servant. Your father knows you well enough to ascertainunderstand that it does not bode well for anyone other than me, him, or your mother to wake you up." He laughed at the last line.

At the mention of his mother, pain flashed over Godric's face. "I'm sorry," said Salazar quietly, all mirth gone from his face. Godric merely nodded and they continued making their way to the study, but in silence.

Lady Gryffindor had been sick of mind for a long time. No one knew what had happened. The three males suspected that it was magical reasons. However much they tried to use their minimum telepath powers to search her mind, the only emotion they could find was pain. Pure, undulating excruciating pain, so intense that it had driven her crazy. They saw flashes of red light and hooded figures crying out unclear words.

Godric remembered his father's grim expression on learning of his mother's condition. After careful examination of her memories, he had only grown grimmer. A hush had fallen over the whole castle when Lady Ginerva Gryffindor had returned with deteriorating physical and mental health.

Godric had always adored his mother. When he saw her condition, it had broken him almost as badly as it had broken his father. Salazar had been his only solace. It had taken all of his will to remind himself that Salazar had been beaten by his aunt and tortured, maybe when he was barely able to walk.

He hated this. Why were their so many injustices in the world? If he ever found out who had attacked his mother, he would have killed them as painfully as they deserved. And they deserved pain.

He shook his dark thoughts away from him as they entered his father's office.

"Father," he greeted simply, inclining his head. Salazar bowed, but not too low. "Lord Gryffindor." He too said.

Terence Gryffindor was well into his thirties. Godric had inherited his slightly untidy hair; only it was even more messy and had the reddish tint from his mother. Terence had clear, bright grey eyes, which reminded Godric of the ocean on a stormy day. He was a busy man, who payed attention to his sons whenever possible. It was rare that he summoned them to his office however, so they were both surprised at the invitation.

"Godric, Salazar." He said. Then, motioning towards the chairs, "Be seated."

The two seated themselves. Gldric spoke first. "You had summoned us?" Terence nodded. "Yes." Then, turning to look at both of them in the eyes, he said softly, "How you have matured. Few years ago, telling you this would be out of the question."

Salazar's grey eyes hardened as he spoke in his smooth voice, "What is it,sire?"

"I bring grave news from Ireland," he said, leaning against the hard wooden back of his chair.

"The country of the Ravenclaws?" asked Godric curiously. "I heard that their daughter was a great warrior, who cared not for what peasants spoke about her. She is said to be proud and fearless."

"It is about her, I am afraid," replied his father. Seeing the expressions on the faces, he relented. "I think you know of the Hufflepuffs? Sir Jeremy was a great knight, yet he chose to lead life as a farmer."

When the boys nodded he continued, "Sir Jeremy has a granddaughter, by the name of Helga. His wife was magical and so she taught Helga all the arts."

Alarm crossed Salazar's face. "Have we been exposed? For then battle preparations must be made. I have never know many honourable non-magical people, so preparations will need to be extreme."

Godric put a calming hand on Salazar's arm, as Lord Gryffindor continued, "No,it is not her. It is Rowena." He held out a hand to silence the questions certainly about to erupt. "She had challenged her suitor to the duel. An affair of honour, it seems. So, she defeated him-" He was then interrupted by Godric, never the one to be patient.

"Then why, Father? It is not common for such skill to be in a woman, but why mention this?"

He got a glare from his father. "Magic. Sebastian, the suitor, was as I was saying defeated. He dishonourably tried to attack her from behind." Once again silencing the boys with glares, he said, "The princess exhibited magic. In a shower of sparks, the prince was knocked back. Then, the prince's father arrived. Staying there would have resulted in Rowena's death. So, Helga and Rowena escaped. I got an owl-message from Helga." His face cleared, and then grew serious. "They are coming here."

Godric and Salazar walked out of the study, feeling considerably more somber. They walked down a long hall which was, decorated with the Gryffindor crest. The plush carpet felt comfortable under their booted feet.

They spoke only of small matters until they reached the privacy of their rooms. Then the babble started. "She cannot...This is preposterous! No wizarding blood... She might prove asuntrustworthy as all non-magicals."

Godric sighed. It was unfortunate that as Salazar grew older, his prejudice only grew. He considered magic as might, as everything. It was sad, in a way. One day, they would have to settle their differences…yet today would not be that day. He silently vowed to himself that if this problem got out of hand, he would remember that Salazar was his brother and would support him and guide him to the right path again.

"Godric? I have been talking for some time now, you have barely responded. Godric? Godric!" Godric shook his head and came out of his reverie.

"Sorry," he smiled. "Umm... What were you saying?" Salazar groaned. "I was debating whether Rowena would be filthy like most muggles- I mean, non-magicals or if she would be bearable."

"Wait," interrupted Godric. "'Muggle?' Why do you call them that?"

"I know not. It seemed like a fitting name," replied Salazar brightly. "Anyways, as I was saying, these muggles are so filthy that..."

He stopped as Godric's glare hit him. "They are not filthy. Those you have met may have been filthy, but modelling your ideas of a people on the actions of the desperate is wrong."

He saw Salazar's eyes grow cold, like steel orbs of ice. "You have never been in my position, being beaten daily and having no food to go around. Bread was hard-won, and as a young child I had to fight for my survival. By fight I mean actually tussle with boys as old as we are now. I depended on dirty tricks, and even then only my magic kept me from starvation. Do notaccuse me of not having seen life."

"I'm sorry," Godricapologized softly. He knew how tough it was for Salazar to bring up his past. He only did it with Godric and his father, even then only when he was depressed or angry.

Godric wished that this whole conversation had never started. He wondered why it had to be such that the one thing they disagreed on was so great a matter that even mentioning it would mean a huge argument. Anyhow, the princess would arrive by winter.

Preparations had to be made, but that would wait. A servant came to summon them for their fighting classes. They made different choices here too. Godric had a preference for a good, strong sword and perhaps a spear, though he would wield an axe or a club if the situation demanded it. Salazar was an expert with the dagger and a silent crossbow. He could eliminate people with a flick of his dagger or his throwing knives that silently spun into the heart. Godric too could wield a bow, but he preferred the bigger, more powerful, longbow.

The team of two walked down into the training ground. Together, they stood and drew their weapons. The master walked up to them. "M'lords," he greeted, smiling easily. "Today will be a tough day of practise. We will be having a series of matches, alright?"

The two nodded and their fellow trainees glared at each other competitively. Godric however, felt the need to step forward. "Everybody? I request- no, ORDER you to do your best even against us. An enemy will not make things easy, so neither will you."

Everybody agreed, but most of them were looking at him strangely, like they were restraining laughter or like they knew something he was supposed to know, but did not. This did not make him happy.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" barked the master, his earlier joviality all gone. Now for the next question- deciding the opponents.

He looked through the group carefully. "Godric. You and Salazar," he announced and the relief was almost palpable. The brothers' fighting skills weren't far beyond average, but nobody wanted to obey or disobey Godric's "command" that nobody should let him win.

Godric moved back a step to stand beside Salazar. He was very happy with this pairing. Salazar was a different opponent; he could not be predicted, since he attacked randomly.

The two of them moved into the small circle marked out for them, and Godric drew his sword. It was long and sharp, made of a reddish metal with a lion, the symbol of his house, at the hilt. Salazar stood before him, seemingly unarmed but probably with an arsenal of hidden weapons, ready to unleash with flicks of his wrist while slipping under Godric's guard.

Godric'sright hand automatically strayed to his waist, where he fingered the hilt of his blade. It was his favorite weapon, though it didn't do well for deflecting Salazar's throwing knives.

Salazar looked at him, most likely planning an attack. He studied Godric's hand and leg position and seemed to be analysing him. He then grinned easily.

That really made Godric angry. He hated it when people took any sort of battle casually,especially when it was against him. He felt like attacking Salazar even though he knew that he was falling right into his trap.

The two started circling each other and Godric as usual made the first move. He brought his sword around and made a fast swing, keeping Salazar at an arm's length. Salazar immediately pulled put a throwing knife and it spun at Godric. He grasped his own dagger and fended away the shot.

The next few minutes were hectic battle, with both of them trying to best each other. Finally, Salazar slipped up under Godric's guard and held the hidden blade to his throat. Godric tried to bring his blade around to the backed Salazar's neck, but was given another blade resting on the tip of his nerve.

Claps filled the air and Salazar withdrew his blades, smiling. "I'm sorry Godric," he admitted softly. He was never happy with fighting against Godric and he never had been; he'd always known that he owed a life-debt to Godric. Godric wondered why it had to stop him. For him, life-debts were never to stand in the way of combat. He would never kill one whom he owed a debt, but that was all.

As the two were walking back to the castle, Godric thought back to the day Salazar had joined him. He had felt his magic guide him to Salazar and his father had always told him to pay attention to such instincts. The minute he had heard, his father had galloped towards the area where Salazar was. They found a tortured boy unconscious in the snow.

Later on, when he awoke, he told a horrible tale of torture and abuse. This had honestly scared Godric and aroused pity in him, so he asked his father to move Salazar in with him. He remembered looking in to Salazar's strange, greenish-grey eyes and wondering how such things could have happened to one as young as him. His father had also wanted to see Salazar's strange ability with snakes, so he had come.

Over the next seven summers, the two had become like brothers. They had trained together, and learnt magic. They had evolved into what they were. Their opinions too had changed. Godric found his 'brother' to be absolutely different from him. They had only shared one big difference, and Godric worried it would be their undoing. Salazar had developed a hatred of those without magic, all based on his mistreatment by his aunt and the bullies on the street.

Godric, however, had no hatred. He felt only pity, pity that they would never get the adrenalin rush of dodging fast bursts of light and firing shots quicker than the fastest bow. The two had only one goal in common- development of the magical community.

"Godric?" called Salazar, drawing his attention. Although he was no longer as scared and pitiful as the little boy who had been saved from death, Salazar was quiet. Unlike Godric, he was not outspoken and bold. He thought things through thoroughly and spoke quietly. He always had been, Godric reflected, a bit insecure about himself when around those other than Godric.

"Godric!" said Salazar again.

Godric shook his head, ridding himself of all stray thoughts. "Sorry, Salazar," he apologised, grinning. "I assume that I have not replied the past few times I called you."

Salazar snorted good-naturedly. "M'friend, two times is good for you. Nowadays, you think so much that I wonder what has happened."

Godric laughed lightly and shook his head. "What about your fast-developing wit? Even that seems wrong."

Salazar groaned and said, "I called you for a reason, you know."

"What is it?"

"Just that your lord father summoned me, and only me, whilst you were daydreaming."

"You and only you? Why? Tell me if it bodes well or not for you. If not... I will talk to my father."

"Godric..." sighedSalazar sadly, "Do not trouble over me again."

"I will do what is necessary." Godric replied and the two went their separate ways as they entered the castle.

Godric was wandering around all the staircases of the castle and levitating random objects as he passed them. He floated a suit of armour to him, only to drop it down with a clang when he saw a whitish figure.

He gasped when he went closer. It was a ghostly image of his mother, with her beautiful hair no longer a dark red but a shade of grey and wearing clothes as such she had not worn in a long time.

"Mother?" Godric whispered,wondering what he was seeing. Had he been using too much magic? Had he become delirious with boredom? What was happening to him?

The ghostly figure turned. It had the same face as his mother and spoke in her voice. "Godric," she smiled sadly.

He was struck speechless for a moment. "What devilry are you?" he cried out, somehow remembering the words. "What have you done to my mother, the beautiful Lady Ginerva?"

The apparition stared at him sadly. "Do you not understand? Iamyour mother. Or rather, I am her soul. My body is dying. It was...tortured. If you restore me soon, then I might live."

"Tell me what to do," Godric whispered, deciding that his magic was the cause and that he had seen much less believable things.

The spirit tilted her head up, as if listening to something. "I don't have much time," she warned, her image flickering. "Remember this- the horn of an animal of magic!"

"Wait!" Cried Godric, as her image flickered stretching out his hand. "Mother!" He cried again, but the spirit merely raised a hand and disappeared.

Just then, Salazar ran down the stairway, calling out to him. "Godric! I bring grave tidings!"

"What?" asked Godric dully, wondering how much excitement could be crammed into a single day.

"We will be under attack! I am chief strategist! And your father wanted to see you in the Lady's room."

He nodded and, remembering the vision, rushed of without another word. Salazar looked at him strangely and Godric could have sworn that he had said something to the effect of "Honestly, yet his boy grows stranger every day."

He was not strange!

Entering his mother's room, out of breath, he approached his father.

"Ah, Godric!" He said, spreading his arms wide in greeting, but Godric saw them trembling. He got straight to the point. "What of Mother?" He asked.

Terence Gryffindor sighed heavily and just looked at Godric. Immediately fearing the worst, Godric asked fearfully, "She is still in this world, is she not?" His father nodded. "Yet her condition is deteriorating! This is no disease known to man; a cure is needed. Crumpled Horn of a magical creature..." he muttered.

"What was that?" asked his father hopefully. To see him so... vulnerable hurt the normally stoic Godric.

"I read it in a book of magic. I cannot remember which, but it is our best bet for her survival."

His father nodded seriously. "You will go alone and get it. I need Salazar here for the upcoming battle. Take another lad with you, but that is all."

Godric forced a smile, bowed and walked out, heart aching too much to even ask about the enemies. For he was to save his mother, a

One. She was dying. Even in her vegetable state, a life without her was unimaginable. If she were fully restored, that would only be an added bonus. He needed her alive. If she were gone, his family would lose all will to fight and survive.

A few hours later, Godric found himself treading the corridors alone. He walked and contemplated the way of the world, wondering how it could be so cruel. He wanted to cry but when he tried, no tears came. He wondered about the point of existence if angst was the only result, for Ginerva Gryffindor was dying and they were under attack. He had to go with a few lesser-skilled men to bring down a probably dangerous "magical animal with a crumpled horn." Life torn in half, he paced the halls, fully accepting that his mother's fate was now in his hands.

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Beta A/N: Hello! This is ShadowBlade1223, and I am now the beta for this awesomeness! Hmm…I'd tell you to check out my stories, but I only have one right now and it's not even in this fandom…oh well.

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A/N:- Thanks to The Slytherpuff(Anon), Ashaacorn, C.B. Weasely, EasilyDistractedBookworm, Haquikah, redvineranger, Son of Whitebeard, NRTAQH and Chocolate Teapot! Also, thanks to all the followers. Y'all rock and rule.


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